Witch way

first encounter

Lianne chuckled at the man who had just bought them both a drink. Harper had forced herself to come out after a long shift, but surprisingly, she wasn’t hating it. Free drinks were always a plus, and she was no stranger to the unspoken rule of letting men buy her drinks. But tonight, she was sticking with Lianne. “Oh, you’re too cute. Well, well, thanks to the drink, could I just have a girly chat with my friend, and we’ll come find you in a bit?” Lianne’s smile was electric, a dazzling thing that lit up the space around her. Harper had that same smile too—on rare occasions. But tonight, her face was sour unless she was genuinely enjoying herself. She’d dressed up for once, slipping into mid-heels, baggy jeans, and a tight corset top that wowed. She noticed the men’s stares, but she didn’t care; she wasn’t looking for anyone tonight. Used to the attention, she brushed it off.

“What about him?” Lianne nudged her, pointing out a man at the bar.

“No, too scrawny, and he works in finance. I mean, it’s a good job, but it’s boring as hell!” Harper replied, her voice tinged with disinterest.

“You’re too fussy,” Lianne jibed, rolling her eyes.

“No, I’m not fussy enough. I’m not looking for perfect, but I’m at least looking for something better than the last few guys I’ve had.”

“They’ve all been lovely,” Lianne countered.

“Yes, and they’ve all left me,” Harper retorted sharply.

“Not left you. They just moved on to do their own thing.”

“I get it. Everyone has lives. But I’m looking for someone to build with. Someone who wants to take over empires, to make it work through thick and thin—real, passionate, storybook love. If it’s not that, I don’t want it.” Harper slammed back another tequila as the drinks arrived.

“But you hate storybooks?” Lianne c****d her head to the side and furrowed her eyebrows

“I don’t like reading them, because it just makes me sad, however I would like something in real life” she knocked back one more tequila. “Anyway, time to dance?” she asked, eager to change the subject.

“I need the loo” harper dashed off, floating across the floor and walked into the toilets. She finished up quickly and returned to the bar

“Heyyyyyy, got a few free drinks sent over. Now, tell me about that weird woman!” Lianne shouted over the music.

“Oh, it was insane. I was getting a book, and she just started saying all this stuff about my bloodline, my heritage. Told me to read this book about the occult. Just… crazy, really,” Harper explained, trying to laugh it off, though the weight of the conversation still lingered.

“Sounds like some fantasy s**t. What was she like?”

“Like a witch,” Harper muttered, unsure whether to even entertain the idea.

“A witch?! Aha, are you a witch now?” Lianne laughed.

“Apparently. I don’t know. But I trusted her”

“Even with the crazy story?”

“Yeah. She said I’ll meet a ‘bear.’” Harper said, the words still feeling strange coming out of her mouth.

“A bear? Like the animal?” Lianne raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I think so. She didn’t exactly explain.” Harper finished the tequila with a snap. “Anyway, time to dance?”

“Hell yes, b***h!” Lianne grinned, pulling her back into the rhythm.

They swung around and slid their way onto the dance floor, their energy infectious. Harper danced like no one was watching, confidently provocative, until she felt a strange sensation. She turned around and noticed a man walk through the door. Body still in movement, but eyes glued to this man. He was smiling with the group of 4 or 5 other men and quick as a flash his eyes momentarily hit her gaze.

She looked away as quick as he caught her, and looked at lianne and continued to dance. Maybe it was the alcohol, but her body felt very weird.

He was big, tall, broad-shouldered, his buttoned shirt effortlessly stylish but casual enough for a night out. His hair was short, his beard perfectly groomed. He exuded a power, that practically hummed in the air. And Harper felt it—soft, yet intense, a flutter in her chest that was both exhilarating and unnerving. She quickly turned away, shaking off the sensation. He was smiling with the group of 4 or 5 other men and quick as a flash his eyes momentarily hit her gaze.

She looked away as quick as he caught her, and looked at lianne and continued to dance. Maybe it was the alcohol, but her body felt very weird.

“That guy staring at you,” Lianne shouted over the thumping music.

“Which one?” Harper turned her head.

“The big bloke who looks like he owns the place,” Lianne giggled. “Speak to him!”

“No way. Girls’ night, you know the rules.”

“Go on, what’s the harm?”

Harper rolled her eyes but couldn’t shake the pull she still felt. She needed some space. “I’m having a cig. I’ll be back.”

She walked off the dance floor, the pull growing stronger with each step. She passed the man again, and the magnetic force surged through her, but she pushed it aside, walking past him with deliberate speed. His eyes followed her every move, but she didn’t look back.

She stepped outside, the cool night air hitting her face as she sat on the small perch. She felt dizzy, confused—just the drink, she told herself. Nothing more. She lit up a cigarette and leaned over to tighten her heel strap. But as she did, a deep voice echoed from behind her.

“Everything alright?”

Harper’s heart skipped a beat. She looked up, startled, and found him standing there.

“Um, yeah. Everything’s fine. Just the shoes,” she said, pointing to her heel.

“Yeah, how do you women last in those things?” He smiled, a soft laugh escaping his lips. His voice was deep, yet soft-spoken, and it sent a strange shiver down her spine.

“Well, your feet go numb after a while, so you just end up ignoring it and pushing through—just like life.” Harper took another drag, trying to compose herself.

“Wow. That was deep. Who hurt you?”

“Everybody and nobody. Myself and absolutely everyone. You can’t stay angry. You just move on to the next.” She exhaled a cloud of smoke, staring at the ground.

The guys face didn’t move an inch. He leant back on his heel and looked her up and down. Harper screwed her face a little as she felt judged

“What’s the look for?” She quizzed. She had to remember how much she drank and she need to control her face before it got her into trouble like a few of the last times she had been out.

“Nothing just, seems like it was someone specific? A man maybe? I wouldn’t imagine a girl hurting you… well I couldn’t imagine a man either but…” he shrugged. Harper looked away, she was immediately done with the conversation. But he seemed to not be.

“So, you never stay with one?” He leaned slightly closer, his presence overwhelming.

She shuffled away “ stay with one what, man?”

He nodded

“It’s always something. It’s not you, it’s me. I can’t do this. I need to follow your dreams. Whatever the excuse or reason, it’s just something you deal with.” Harper didn’t know why she was telling him all this. It felt like she couldn’t stop herself.

“Strong mindset,” he said, his eyes locking with hers. She stood up, finished with the cigarette, and found him towering over her, his presence commanding yet comforting. It was a strange feeling, both intimidating and safe, and she couldn’t shake the thought that something—someone—was waiting for her. Her mind flashed to the conversation the day before. The bear. Was this the man?

“Excuse me, I have to go.” Harper’s voice was barely a whisper, but it carried a weight of finality as she tried to slip past him. But before she could make her escape. He caught her arm—not roughly, but with an unshakable firmness, like an anchor she couldn’t escape. His grip tightened just enough to send a shiver down her spine

“What’s your name?” His gaze pierced through her, intense, as if he could see straight into her soul.

“Why?” she replied, her voice colder than she intended, but she couldn’t hide the tremor in her stomach.

“A girl like you’s gotta have a pretty name,” he said, a hint of amusement in his deep voice. His words were laced with something magnetic, something compelling.

Harper rolled her eyes, trying to shake the strange feeling creeping up her spine.

“Cliché much?” she retorted.

“What? Not into clichés?” He raised an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving hers.

“I have an imagination,” she shot back, voice thick with challenge, “but I also live in reality.”

He grinned, his expression playful, almost teasing. “Go on, what’s your name?”

She hesitated, the tug of something unknown pulling her back to him. She could feel the warmth of his hand on her arm, soft yet unyielding. “Harper,” she muttered, eyes locked with his, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade into silence.

“And you?” she asked, her voice almost too soft.

“Dean,” he said, his voice low, each syllable deliberate, sending a ripple through her.

The silence between them deepened. Neither of them moved, not even a breath. The intensity of the moment was palpable, as if the universe had paused to watch them.

“Is there a number to the name?” She asked, almost too casually.

“You’re asking me?” Dean chuckled softly, but there was no humor in his eyes, only a quiet intensity that made her heart race. “I should be asking you.”

“I told you I don’t do clichés,” Harper said, her smile barely breaking the ice. She was in control, or so she told herself.

“Well, she does smile.” Dean’s words were laced with something deeper, something almost approving. “But I didn’t give out my number because of business. So, here, let me get yours.” He pressed his phone into her hand, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat between them.

Harper laughed, a sound that didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, what, so I can sit around waiting for you to message me? Pining after you? No, thanks.” She suddenly became acutely aware of his hand on her arm and pulled it back, her body automatically shifting away from him.

Before she could even take a step, he was there, impossibly fast, blocking her path. His presence was overwhelming, his eyes dark with determination.

“Please,” he said, the word escaping his lips with a quiet desperation that caught her off guard. But her instincts screamed, No, don’t do it.

“I have to get back to my friend,” she said, weaving around him, her voice sharper now, cutting through the air between them. She pulled her body fully away from the conversation but it was like a magnet trying to pull her back into it. She had to completely force herself.

Lianne’s face lit up with excitement when Harper returned to her side, and the flood of questions came immediately. “He spoke to you! Oh my god, did you get his number? What’s he like? How many kids are you going to—”

“Upapapa nope,” Harper interrupted, pressing her finger to her lips, silencing her friend. “No number, girls’ night.”

“Harper, he cannot stop staring at you,” Lianne insisted, her eyes darting behind Harper, to where she could only assume Dean still stood.

“Neither can a lot of men,” Harper said, dismissing the comment with a wave. “I’m here with you. Let’s go find another place.”

She dragged Lianne out of the bar, grabbing their coats and escaping before Dean could make another move. She threw her coat over her shoulders and hurried Lianne down the street, away from the magnetic pull she felt in every inch of her being.